Author Topic: Hell in Heaven  (Read 1484 times)

Offline aleksandar

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For all of you who live in Canada, Norway, Ireland, France or I don't know where else, be grateful. Be grateful for the upcoming winter months, and thank God for them.

Come and try Darwin to see what G hell looks like, the most tropical city of Australia with never-ending, eternal summer. I moved here in April this year because I had to
A career move. Well not exactly, more a matter of getting a job. It was the only job available to me at that time, a job I had to take to be able to feed myself and survive in the midst of the financial crisis. And save for surgery. Just to illustrate my point: there are no blouses, coats, long-sleeved shirts or anything of that sort, not only in the wardrobes but also in the vocabulary of the residents of this city. The city is backpacker's paradise with overwhelmingly young resident population and young tourists from all over the world who walk shirtless 80% of the time, and the other 20% wear tank-tops. Always summer, no seasons. Go to a party, afternoon barbecue, or just chill out with friends on a Saturday afternoon, and EVERYONE is shirtless except for you. Typically 6 shirtless men around on average in any social situation and you in a T-shirt with your chest protruding the wrong way. Eventually you give up taking invitations because you stand out in the worst way with your shirt always on. So you become depressed and lonely. Imagine the inviting ocean, beaches, national parks with swimming waterfalls everyone goes to visit during the weekends to relax. Imagine yourself in this heat and in the eternal summer always staying home, lonely and depressed. Imagine saying no over and over again to people asking you to join them here and there, until people start thinking, Don't invite this weirdo, he's not coming. Feeling half-man. Imagine a summer paradise and your micro-hell inside it.

You know how your puffy nipples contract in the cold and for most people that creates a normal look, although very temporarily (for me this state looks almost gyno-free). Forget about it in Darwin. It never happens.

Forget about having a chance with any girl among thousands of shirtless men at any given time; forget about having sex with your clothes on. What clothes?

I work for the Government and absolutely nobody wears a suit at work. Absolutely no one, not even the Chief Minister, not even the CFO. People wear extremely light summer shirts that will reveal your problem even if it is very mild. If it's bad, more of a hell. As soon as they come home from work, the norm is take your shirt off.

I shared a flat with great young people who I really liked. I had to move out, it was no longer an option with all the social occasions, entertaining guests and friends. With the flatmates taking their shirt off at home, cooking, drinking a beer on the balcony etc, all with the shirt off. Oh, and yes, you guessed. Almost every larger property has a swimming pool. Which are actually used all the time.

Now I live alone and depressed.

I am not saying that being a gyno sufferer in Alaska is easy, but having lived in different countries and continents, this is as bad as it gets. Take my word for it. Talking about gynecomastia ruining your life. Literally. You cannot disguise it and move on with your life. Thank God it's only mild in my case and I am awaiting surgery. Thank God I've worked out regularly in the gym for years and have considerable muscle mass. It makes things easier. Otherwise, one option remains: pack my bags and move to Siberia.

I am just trying to make some gyno sufferers feel happier and grateful about where they are compared to where they could be and the experiences they could have. We are all sufferers but in so many different ways. Geographical location is huge in the gynecomastia context. Winter can make you look equal to other men in outside appearance, with your clothes on. Gives you a sort of a break from the suffering. A chance to catch your breath. Not here in Darwin. Not ever. You don't have to watch the weather forecast ever. You know perfectly well what to expect. Sun, heat, humidity and all-present shirtlessness.

« Last Edit: November 04, 2010, 09:53:56 AM by aleksandar »

Offline Paa_Paw

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I live in Southern California, with a lake recreation area less than 2 miles away and Pacific ocean beaches within an hour drive. So, you are not alone.

As far as the ladies are concerned, They are much more impressed by what is going on between your ears than they are put off by a bit of surplus tissue on your chest.

Obviously gynecomastia can be a major issue where a man's self image is concerned. Sometimes it can be quite crippling in fact. but there are things that can be done about it. You seem to be complaining about the fact that you are one of the best dressed guys in town. At least that is what it sounds like in a way.

First thing is to get a truly impartial opinion about your condition. I know from personal experience that it is near impossible to be objective about your own body. Your best resource would be a health care professional. Then do something to bolster your self image. Work up the courage to ask a young lady out. Gynecomastia is not going to be her issue, she will have problems of her own and she may even think you are overly concerned about nothing.

Make up your mind whether you are going to adjust to your situation as-is or have surgery to reduce the size of your breasts. No one else can make that decision for you, and there is no wrong answer. Except that there is only one answer that is right for you.

If your self image is so crippled that your depression prevents you from getting out to make the contact with a young lady or seeking medical/surgical help; then a psychologist might be your first help.

Most important, wake up to the fact that you are not alone. You can sound off here anytime.

Sorry if I sounded harsh, but you absolutely must get out of your room and into public. You are not alone and you should not allow yourself to become overly depressed. Its not like you have cancer or something. This is an embarrassment, yes, but really not much more than that.
Grandpa Dan


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